The Bad Blood
by Bethought-Ink
Summary: Chris/Jess. Alternate take on the events of series 6. Change one thing and you change the course of fate, but fate does not always run smoothly.


**Chapter One: The Club**

Chris Mead adjusted the collar of his shirt and checked his watch in the purple-tinged light of the bar. The little dial inside the main clock face told him it was now the early hours of the morning of the first day of term and he wiped his brow with his free hand. The few drinks he had ordered seemed to have had little effect other than making him feel the hot stuffiness of the club far more than usual and creating a dull haze in his mind that numbed away the music and the laughter around him.

He punched the familiar number of the local taxi firm into his mobile and slammed his glass down on the side of the bar.

"Can I get you another?" the voice was soft and made him pause with his thumb hovering over the green button. A girl had appeared at his side, having seemingly shimmered into existence from amongst the crowds of sweating partiers with her hair and makeup intact, and she grinned sweetly at him.

"No, let me," he smiled back, putting his phone back into his pocket and placing his hand on the small of her back, "What are you drinking?"

She relaxed against the edge of the bar, one hand on her hip, and purred her order at the barman. Chris strained to hear her, but the rumble of music meant all he heard was the thud of bass and when the man turned to him expectantly he shrugged.

"Same," he grinned, handing over a note and imitating her position against the bar; one hip relaxed against the cushioned ledge, arm stretched out across the surface. It was slightly sticky with the remains of spilt drinks but he found he didn't care as she reached out and touched his wrist gently.

"I'm Jess," she said, cocking her head to the side slightly. The gesture meant her eyes caught the light and seemed to shine, giving her an air of innocence that the coy smile on her lips only served to emulate and he felt torn between wanting to bend forward and kiss her or brush the stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Chris," he grinned. The barman placed two colourful drinks down beside them and handed Chris his change. He pocketed it without looking and Jess straightened up.

"Want to go sit down with these?" she said, raising her voice over the noise of the music and reaching out to take his hand before he replied.

"What are they?" he shouted, pulling her back and indicating his glass with a nod of his head. Jess laughed and surprised him by kissing him; she tasted of strawberries and liqueur and he took a greedy slurp of his drink through the curly straw as she pulled him towards the booths that lined the walls at the other end of the dance floor. It tasted even stronger of her, although he was sure he had that confused, and he made a personal promise to always associate her with strawberries and cream. He gripped her hand a little tighter as they weaved through swivelling bodies and couples in hot embraces and then found themselves in the relative coolness of the empty floor on the other side.

She took a seat first and he sidled in next to her. He liked the way he had to turn his back on the rest of the world to talk to her, like he was boxing them out of other people's minds and he had her all to himself. Although he noticed that little attention was given to them by the others in the club he stiffened whenever he heard a male voice pass them by, as if someone better might come along at any moment and distract her attention.

Yet her attention was well and truly focussed on him when he reached out to cup his hand around the back of her neck and draw her in for a kiss. That newly familiar taste of strawberries greeted him, as well as the slightly spicy scent of her perfume and he wondered what she would now associate with him; the remnants of the smell of beer on his breath? The scent of the aftershave Steph had sent for his birthday that he had tried desperately to dilute on his skin rather than offend her?

Whatever it was made her smile and he felt her grin against his lips and pull away slightly. Up close, and without the washout glow of the bar, her eyes seemed bigger, darker. Despite the heavy makeup she seemed fresher-faced than even some of the pupils at his school and when she laughed her eyes crinkled up and shone with glee.

He realised she laughed a lot. And that even though the sound was drowned out by the music he could image it being loud, the kind of laugh that was unashamed as it rang out after a funny comment on the television on a Sunday morning.

He wondered when he had become so infuriatingly domestic.

He wasn't sure how long they had been sat there, but they had slipped closer together so that his arm was curled around the back of the booth and he was able to run her hair through his fingers and her foot had crept between his calves and was running up and down slowly.

"What do you do?" he said suddenly, attempting to turn the conversation from gentle nothingness and small talk to something more substantial, but she creased her brow and leaned in slightly.

"What?" she shouted and he laughed and reached out with his other hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushed past her earlobe as he moved and he felt her shudder slightly against him and lean in closer. He moved in with her and pinched the soft skin of her ear with his teeth.

"Want to go somewhere quieter?" he said in a half-whisper, loud enough for her to hear but with what he hoped was a slightly seductive growl, and moved his hand down from where it had lingered at her neck to the small of her back. She responded silently to his touch, turning her face into his and pressing her lips against his.

"Sure, take me away from this place," she murmured and slipped her hand into the grip of his palm.

"I didn't mean... I don't want you to think I'm-" he was cut off by another kiss and the feel of her free hand pressed against his cheek.

"I want to," she gasped and the desire he saw in her eyes left no doubt in his mind.

"Mine?"

"Let me freshen up first," she grinned, pulling his hand along as she slipped out of the booth and started walking away. Chris stumbled out of his seat after her and reclaimed her hand; which had slipped, briefly, from his grasp. He knew his own palms were sweaty, his shirt slightly dishevelled as they walked but he didn't care; he only cared about the flash of an ivory jawline and peach smile that he could glimpse past her curtain of hair; of the way he was sure she pulled at her dress to loosen it as the pulled him, panting, into a quiet corridor.

Their lips came together quickly as the drone of the nightclub was quickly muffled by the slam of the door. The sudden bang shocked Chris slightly and he pulled his head away to glance over his shoulder; a cracked surface with a single sink, no cubicles or toilets yet the distinguishable clinical decor of a restroom. Jess touched his cheek gently, prompting him to look at her again.

"Baby changing," she grinned, "This place is a regular bar during the day, you know?"

"Right," he grinned and pulled her close, away from the door. he was sure he heard the click of a lock as they moved and her arm swept away from the door handle and he gave it an experimental turn, "Nice," he whispered.

She propped herself up, ungracefully, on the side surface, opening her legs to let him nestle close; arms wrapped around her, one around her waist, one hand buried in her hair. He could feel her grin against his lips, the tell-tale signs of a supressed giggle and he let out a little chuckle.

"I feel like a school kid," he joked, breaking the kiss to grin down at her. Jess said nothing, just leant in again and parted his lips. Chris felt her hands reaching round his ribcage to grip the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up at the back. He liked how keen she was, her confidence was refreshing and he let out a moan against her lips as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

* * *

><p>When Jess slipped out of the changing room door she gripped his hand and pulled him with her, out into the corridor where he was met by approving nods of the few men that lingered. He heard a quiet wolf whistle as they passed and gripped Jess' hand tighter so that she nestled into his side at a comfortable pace as they walked. At the end of the corridor he nodded curtly to a bouncer, who raised an eyebrow and pushed open the door to the club with a strong arm.<p>

When the cold night air hit his face Chris realised how exhausted he was from the moment in the toilets of the club and briefly thought that he would like to go straight home to bed. To sleep ready for an early rise in the morning. Yet something in the way Jess slipped her hand into his palm told him that wasn't possible. That to kiss her goodnight now and return to his flat alone would be a crime he would never forgive himself for. That refreshing strawberry taste was still on his lips, her hair still messed up where he had clutched her head as he kissed her and suddenly there was no possibility other than to take her home to his bed.

The cool September air gave him a second lease of life as they stepped out, laughing, onto the pavement. She stood with her arms around his chest, hands buried underneath his coat, as he rang for a cab and then the next five minutes were spent warming one another's lips and necks. In the cab they giggled like teenagers, the driver raising an eyebrow at them in the rear view mirror and presumably choosing to ignore Chris' hand up her skirt and the way she bit her lip. Chris tipped him heavily.

Again in the fresh air he felt revived and on a second wave of drunkenness. Jess took his hand and led him up the path as if she were the owner of his little flat. It took two attempts to enter the door code and then they were in, warm but not warm enough. Chris wanted the itch of blankets on bare skin, the heat of friction and sweat.

"How close is it?" Jess panted in his ear and he kissed her hard.

"Seventy eight steps," he joked, "Lifts broken."

They half ran, half stumbled up the four flights of stairs, keys in his hand all ready, and burst through his front door. He had barely closed it before they were on one another again. Jess' hands were quick, her tongue daring but Chris pressed her against the wall and held her steady. The alcohol made him confident, suave and he toyed with the low neckline of her dress.

"I'm not usually into quickies in the back toilets of dive bars," he said slowly and looked up to meet her gaze. Her mouth formed an 'o' but she said nothing. Their confidence had switched with territories and he smiled.

"You sure about this? Say no if you want," he said suddenly, soberly, and took her hand. She nodded as she kissed him.

The next few moments were a blur of movement; of kisses, of his sofa, of her thighs pressed against his cheeks and her moans permeating every inch of his flat. This was his domain, to welcome the girls he brought home to his flat and he excelled at it. Her fingers were buried in his hair and her back arched against the cushions before he stopped, wiped his lips with the heel of his hand and reached for his belt.

"Do you have any condoms?" he said quietly, thinking of the spare in his wallet used in the club restrooms.

"It's fine," she sighed, wiping away the mascara that was sneaking down her cheeks, "I don't mind."

"No, hang on," his flat was small enough that it was only a few steps from the sofa to the bathroom and he came back to her quickly, throwing a couple of small, foil packets down on the floor beside them.

When he thought about it later, quietly in his classroom when he should have been making lesson plans, he remembered the night in a succession of snapshots, of moments.

_Blink_.

His shirt unbuttoned and his chest bare. Her dress bunching at her hips.

_Blink_.

Her dress pulled over her waist. Her lips at his neck as he unzipped his trousers and she helped him pull them down.

_Blink_.

Her bare leg curled up and over the back of the sofa, head thrown back to reveal a row of white teeth.

_Blink_.

The rhythmic squeak of bare skin on leather, her panting in his ear; a symphony he's in control of.

_Blink_.

A fall, a tumble from the sofa to the rug and he's calling her name.

Blink again and suddenly he's staring up at the ceiling, one arm curled around her shoulders, the other pulling the throw from the sofa over them.

Jess curled up next to him on the rug, her arm reaching up to stroke the soft skin beneath his collarbone. Her makeup had smeared down her cheeks, giving her a slightly hollow-eyes appearance when her eyelids fluttered closed. He watched her bite her lips gently and nudged her playfully with the hand he had curled around her back. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him lazily; she had lipstick on her teeth and he licked his own instinctively. But she had already closed her eyes again and he chuckled softly.

"I have to be up early in the morning," he murmured, more to himself than to the girl at his side. She opened her eyes quickly and stiffened, drawing her hand away from his chest quickly. He frowned when she sat up suddenly and reached over for her dress.

"Right," she muttered and turned her cheek to her shoulder so that he could see her thick eyelashes fluttering, and wiped her jaw with the back of her hand, "I guess I'll be going then."

"Hey, hang on," he laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, "I didn't mean it like that."

"You didn't?" she wrinkled her nose and turned back to him.

"Course not!" he grinned and tipped his chin to better look at her, "I wanted to wake up next to you in the morning."

"You really mean that?" her eyes lit up and he laughed softly. Her smile illuminated her face, made her look younger, fresher and he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded his head in the direction of his bedroom door, "My bed's pretty comfy, you know."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" she dropped her dress down on the sofa as she stood up and held out her hand, "Lead the way."


End file.
